Some say, death is the easy way
And I think they're right.
Cause nights tick, by like a long week
Except when you stop by.
And I know that tryin' gets nothing done
And I see you're about dry.
Cause nothin' gets you high,
You're poor the day you die,
And alcohol it only makes you tired.
But seein' you feels good,
And it's always understood.
That anything much sweeter
Would make me die.
